The Exalted

by Kaitlyn Sage Patterson

  Hepsy pinched her sister’s arm, but before she could say anything, Myrna laughed. “Yes, yes, I know. Don’t curse.”

  Hepsy’s stern expression faltered, and she nearly smiled as she said, “Gracious. You’ve only just arrived. Has anyone even offered you somewhere to wash up?” When I shook my head, she sighed disapprovingly. “There’s water in a basin in our bungalow. Go get yourself cleaned up. We’ve words to say to Aphra, anyhow.”

  Aphra smiled at me. “We’re sharing the first bungalow on the left, just down the path. Think you can find your way? It looks like supper should be ready soon, so don’t take too long. Feel free to borrow something clean from my trunk.”

  Nothing sounded better than a rinse, so I nodded and hugged Myrna again, thrilled to see her safe. Hepsy handed me her lamp with a look that might have been mistaken for a smile, and I set off to make myself presentable.

  The bungalow was sparsely furnished with a simple writing desk, three large trunks and an eclectic assortment of chairs. Six hammocks were strung up, one on top of the other, climbing the walls on two sides of the room. Walls may have been a bit of an overstatement—the bungalows weren’t much more than raised platforms with tall roofs and half walls. The breeze through the trees cut the heat a bit, and the space didn’t feel too crowded, though it was a great deal more rustic than the luxury that had surrounded Aphra back at Plumleen Hall.

  I hurriedly stripped off my clothes and scrubbed the sweat and dirt away with a rag and a bit of fine soap I found beside the basin of cool, fresh water. Then I dug through the trunks in search of a pair of loose trousers and a shirt. Once I was dressed, I rubbed a little bit of oil into my hair and began to work a comb through my snarled curls.

  I wondered what the rebel leaders would say when Curlin and I asked to join them. Had we climbed this mountain in vain? I wanted to do something to make a difference, but now that I saw the hopelessness of this so-called rebellion with my own eyes, I didn’t know if I really had anything to offer beyond my determination—and frankly, that didn’t seem like enough.

  A bell rang, and somewhere in the camp a clear, high voice called, “Meat! Come and eat before it’s gone.”

  Suddenly the smells of cooking food—fire-licked meat, fresh bread and some sharp, unidentifiable tang—hit me like a wall, and all I could think about was my growling stomach.

  Leaving my dirty clothes bundled in a corner, I climbed down the bungalow’s ladder and hiked back to the pavilion as fast as I could manage with my sore, exhausted muscles. Quill met me on the path, wearing fresh clothes and a smile. “The others are willing to give you a chance,” he said. “But you’ll have to answer some questions. Just be honest, yeah?”

  I squeezed his hand, giving him a tight smile. “I’ll do my best, but do you think I can eat something first? I’m so hungry I can barely think.”

  “Of course,” he said, and we walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence.

  The meal I found spread over the trestle tables was impressive. I took a thick slice of well-spiced goat and scooped a generous portion of some kind of shredded green vegetable dressed in eye-watering vinegar onto my wooden plate, then plucked a soft, golden roll from a basket. Quill and I joined Curlin, Mal, Aphra, Myrna and Hepsy at their table. I sat beside Myrna and gave Curlin, perched on the far end of the bench next to Mal, a tentative smile. The longer I was around her, the more I began to see the girl I’d grown up with behind her tough shell—even as she watched the other women suspiciously, her right hand lingering near her knife. I rolled my eyes at her, exasperated.

  “Myrna, Hepsy, I assume you’ve met Curlin. She and I grew up together back in Alskad. Curlin, Myrna and Hepsy.”

  Aphra picked up two delicate purple teacups I recognized from Plumleen and filled them with cool, milky makgee, which she handed our way. Myrna passed over horn cups and poured spring water for each of us before settling back into her place. Hepsy eyed Curlin warily while Mal and Quill watched the whole awkward scene with twin looks of bemusement.

  Aphra raised her own teacup to us with a nod. “It may not be Denorian wine and elegantly served courses, but we are so grateful to you for showing up to fight alongside us. Here’s to you both, and to a new beginning for us all.”

  “To a new beginning,” I said, and drained my teacup. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Curlin gulp hers down, as well.

  “So,” Myrna said. “Tell us literally everything that’s happened to you since we last saw you.”

  I smiled, and as I ate, I filled them in. Not on everything—I’d promised Bo that I’d keep his identity a secret—but the bits and pieces I couldn’t tell them, I embellished with the half-truths Bo and I’d come up with together. I told them that Bo was my half brother, come to Ilor to bring me news of my inheritance after our father’s death.

  Curlin kept her eyes on her food, refusing to engage in the conversation even when I tried to pull her in. I talked about the poison and the Shriven, and the horrors I’d seen in the basement of the temple. The children who’d lost their lives to the Suzerain’s sadistic experiments. I told them about how the current Suzerain and their predecessors had used the poison to control Alskad’s citizens. As I spoke, I caught sight of a boy, maybe eleven or twelve years old, inching around the pavilion toward us, his eyes trained on Curlin.

  “I, for one, am glad that you’re here, but you’re going to have a hard time convincing the leaders to take you on,” Myrna said. “We’ve too many mouths to feed already, and not enough of them fighters.”

  The boy edged closer to Curlin, stopping just outside of arm’s reach. Curlin wrapped an arm around her plate and glared at him. Ever so tentatively, he extended a cluster of grapes toward her, his hand shaking. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she plucked the grapes from his hand, nodding to the stool across the table. He shot a look at Quill, who didn’t even seem to notice, and lowered himself onto a stool.

  “Speaking of,” Quill said. “It’s time. Vi? We should get this over with.”

  I followed Mal and Quill across the pavilion to a table where two people sat together. They rose as we approached, and I took the opportunity to study them. They appeared to be twins, both in their middle age with deep, russet-brown skin. One was a woman, with thick black hair braided away from her face. The other was tall and lanky and appeared nonbinary, with very short brown hair curling tightly against their skull.

  “This is the girl?” the woman asked.

  Quill nodded. “You’ve already met Vi’s childhood friend Curlin, but I’d like to introduce you to Vi herself. She’s the one I’ve been telling you about. Biz, Neve, this is Vi. Vi, Biz and Neve. We lead this effort as a team.”

  I extended my hand. “It’s nice to meet you both. I’d like to do what I can to help.”

  Biz eyed my hand with one eyebrow cocked before reaching out and shaking it. “Quill’s filled us in on your background. We just have a few questions. Sit, please.”

  I sat across from Biz and Neve while Mal and Quill took chairs at the head of the table.

  “So, I’ll dive right in. Am I to understand that you gave up the possibility of a cushy life at a country estate in Alskad with a wealthy brother who came all the way here to find you, so that you could traipse into the jungle at first opportunity? What was your plan? Find an army and a heap of trouble?” Skepticism was writ large over Neve’s face. “Do you know one damn thing about fighting? What good did you think you could do?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” I said, taken aback at the hostility in her voice. “I thought that having information would help, and Myrna seemed to think I’d be of use when we were back at Plumleen. I suppose I thought you could use me here, too. I grew up in the temple with Curlin. I can’t claim to’ve seen everything she has, but I’ve seen a lot, and I want to fight with you. I want to stop the temple from hurting anyone else.”

  Neve and Biz exchanged a
long look, and I glanced to the other side of the pavilion to find Curlin and the boy engaged in a whispered conversation. They wore twin expressions of serious determination and were oblivious to everyone around them.

  Neve cleared her throat. “You’re clearly invested in our cause, but I can’t let you believe that we’ll soon make any kind of impact against the Shriven. We simply don’t have the numbers, the resources or the training. We won’t get anywhere unless we find someone who knows a thing or two about combat, and more importantly, about the Shriven.”

  “You said you’d already spoken to Curlin? She’s been through their training. If anyone can get a group into fighting shape, it’s her.”

  “But you’re a liability,” Biz said pointedly. “Surely you know that.”

  “The Shriven have been swarming all over Williford for weeks now. If they couldn’t find her in plain sight, what makes you think they’ll be able to track her here?” Mal asked.

  I cleared my throat, all of the fury and fear and frustration of my life swimming through my head. “I don’t want to put anyone in harm’s way. But if I can do some good? If I can help? I’d put anything on the line to see an end to the temple’s choke hold on Alskad.”

  “You really want to do this?” Neve asked. “You really want to risk your life for a bunch of people you don’t even know?”

  “I think I have to,” I said.

  Quill raised his eyebrows at Biz and Neve in a silent question. The two of them exchanged a glance before nodding, and everyone at the table grinned. “Then you’re welcome here,” Biz declared. “To stay and to fight, just so long as your friend is willing to put in the work to see the rest of the group trained alongside you.”

  Under the table, Quill’s hand reached for mine, and as I laced my fingers through his, I returned the council’s smiles. I didn’t relish the fact that my worth was so closely linked to Curlin’s participation and goodwill, but I had to remind myself that even this chance was a whole lot better than being kicked off the mountain and forced to go back to Alskad with my tail between my legs, forced to rely on my brother’s patronage.

  Before I stood to leave, I pulled the leather strap that held my bag of pearls over my head and set it gently on the table in front of Biz and Neve. “I didn’t want to try to buy my place here, but I think you could use these more than I can.”

  I opened the little bag, letting the incandescent glow of the pearls speak for themselves. I pulled one out and said, “For luck,” then slipped the single pearl into my pocket. All that would remain to remind me of the years I’d spent dreaming of my escape from the temple.

  “Are you sure?” Quill asked. “That’s a fortune.”

  “I’m sure,” I said, pushing myself to my feet. I left Biz and Neve wearing matching stunned expressions and went to find Aphra.

  I had given away my safety net, and now I was ready to jump. I would find the fire within myself to burn the Suzerain to the ground. I would make myself into the spark that would set the world aflame.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Bo

  “When I was younger and imagined being king, I pictured lavish parties and secret passages and horses wearing golden bridles. That illusion has been well and truly shattered since my return from Ilor.”

  —from Bo to Vi

  The carriage slowed as the horses’ hooves clattered to a halt in a narrow alley. Their snorting, heaving breaths swelled like an orchestra, filling my ears and constricting my throat even as my hands continued to press against Runa’s wound, her blood settling in my cuticles, seeping between my fingers, rolling down my wrists. Stone buildings rose up on either side of us, blocking out all the light from the dim midwinter sun as it began to set. It would be dark before long.

  I felt blank. Hollow. I closed my eyes, but the image of my grandmother’s still face had been burned into my memory. I couldn’t shake it.

  A cool hand on my wrist forced me out of the cocoon of denial. Swinton gently pried my fingers away from Runa’s neck, wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to my feet. He led me down the steps and out of the carriage. I leaned back against a stone wall and let the damp cold seep through my skin and into my bones as I waited numbly to be told what to do next.

  “I need a damned drink,” the drunkard whined.

  “The last thing you need is a drink. Just hold the damn horses,” Swinton said. “Bo, I need to take a piece of your jacket. I’m going to rip it, yes?”

  I nodded. My heart thundered. A tug on my shoulder. I tried to focus on my breath. Tearing fabric. The steady whisk of horses’ tails.

  Runa was dead. Gran. My grandmother was dead. Shot by her own guards.

  “We need to make a plan, Bo. This man here is called Dammal. He says he can take us back to his place. Give us a moment to catch our breath. To get our bearings.”

  “His place?” I asked. My eyes kept drifting toward Runa’s body. “Why? We have to get the queen back to the palace.”

  Dammal’s voice was tight. “She’s long gone, Magritte take her. All hail the king.”

  I flinched. I couldn’t be king. I couldn’t even think about it right now. “There will be things to take care of. We must see that her body is prepared for the funeral. There will be documents to sign. Arrangements to make.”

  Swinton put a hand on mine. “Bo. Someone tried to kill you.”

  “We don’t know that.” My voice was shaking, near hysterical. I felt like I was a step away from my body, panic pushing me outside myself.

  “We’re going to send the horses and the carriage out into the street,” Swinton explained. “We’re close to the palace. They’ll make their way home and take Runa with them, Magritte take her soul. But we need to hide, and quickly.” He lifted the Circlet of Alskad off my head and put it in my hands. “Put this in your inner pocket. We need to be as discreet as possible. Can you do that?”

  I forced myself to nod. I trusted Swinton. He was thinking clearly. He would know better than I what we should do. His next move, however, shook me to my very core. He climbed back into the carriage and approached Runa’s body, her limbs sprawled at careless and uncomfortable angles. He bowed his head for a respectful moment, then gently took the crown from her head. The soft gold was bent into an odd shape, and one of the gems was cracked.

  “What are you doing, Swinton?”

  “You’ll need this someday. We shouldn’t send it back with her.”

  My hands tightened into fists. I couldn’t think about her lifeless body, about her teasing and prodding me just hours ago. I couldn’t think about the godsdamned crown.

  “Fine,” I snapped, then turned to look at Dammal. “Before I go anywhere with you, I’ll need to know who the hell you are.”

  Dammal, apparently somewhat sobered by the assassination and our hair-raising gallop through the city, fixed me with a hard stare. “My name is Dammal Abernathy. I’ve been married to Ina Abernathy these fifteen years.”

  “And?” I asked, glad the long sleeves of my formal jacket covered the chill bumps raising hair up and down my arms. I knew what his answer would be, but I needed to hear it from him. I needed him to tell me the truth he’d come to Runa’s birthday celebration to confront me with. I needed him to tell me he knew about Vi.

  “And my wife gave up a dimmy girl, Vi, to the care of the anchorites these sixteen years ago. For Vi’s whole life, Ina’s said her twin, Prudence, died when she was just a babe. She’d lament about the babes when she was deep in her drink, but these past few months, that story’s disappeared, and Ina’s been lurking around the cushy parts of town. Watching a solicitor’s office. Spending hours staring at the palace gates.”

  Dammal licked his lips and glared at Swinton, who was knotting the long reins onto the driver’s pommel.

  “Weren’t til I went to visit Vi—she’s like my own, despite being a dimmy doomed—and learned she’
d been shipped off to Ilor that I got curious. And then our crown prince swans back into town, and that gets my head going real good. But it weren’t til I saw you with my own two eyes that I knew it were true. I don’t know what Ina got up to all those years ago, but Prudence ain’t dead. He’s standing right in front of me.”

  I groped for the words to voice my grief and fury and the overwhelming fear that had settled in my belly, spreading its rot to my very bones. Swinton sidled up to me and whispered, “Are you sure you want him to be voicing this out in the wind where anyone might overhear?”

  “I had to know.”

  “And now we need to hide.”

  “I’ll take you to our place,” Dammal offered. “Ain’t no one from the palace going to come looking for you in the End.”

  “Fine,” I said, unable to think of another option. Not with my head swimming the way it was.

  “Do you want to say goodbye?” Swinton asked. “Before we go, I mean. Do you want to say goodbye to Runa?”

  I shook my head, eyes on my boots. The memory of my grandmother’s lifeblood draining out between my fingers, her last shuddering breath, her terror-filled eyes turning slowly glassy... Those images would stay with me for the rest of my life. I made a silent vow that I would never forget my grandmother as she was in life, but I knew it would be her death that would always haunt me.

  “It’ll feel more real if you look at her, Bo.”

  I shook my head again and, though I could feel Swinton staring at me, I started walking. I didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to layer another memory of my grandmother’s lifeless corpse atop my memories of her life. “My hands are damp with her blood. I am soaked in it. Her death is real enough.”

  Swinton took my hand and squeezed. “As you wish, bully. Dammal? Lead the way.”

  Dammal walked around the carriage, buttoned his coat and slapped one of the horses’ rumps. Already spooked by the smell of blood, the animals thundered down the cobblestone alley and careened out onto the street. Dammal pulled a flask from an inner pocket, took a gulp and waved it toward Swinton and me. Swinton shook his head, but I grabbed the flask and took a long, burning gulp before handing it back. Dammal gave me a crooked grin and took off down the alley opposite the way the horses had gone.